


Dr. Feelgood or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love to Dom

by Commakaze



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Panic Attacks, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commakaze/pseuds/Commakaze
Summary: In which Dirk is the subbiest sub to have ever subbed, Jake is happy to dom him but would maybe like to explore the other side of being a switch every once in a while, and they work things out to their mutual satisfaction with much ado and about 7k words of sex.





	Dr. Feelgood or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love to Dom

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the folks in the Strilonde Discord for enabling and cheerleading this! I had a lot of fun. :D
> 
> Also, Jake is good dom, best boyfriend. <3

When Jake broaches the topic with you, at first you don’t even catch the signs that should warn you to be on high alert for this conversation. He approaches you in the morning while you’re idly doodling. You’re still warm and loose from your shower, and it’s impossible to do anything but relax into his arms when he wraps them around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your still-unstyled hair. “Mornin’,” you mumble, eyes sliding halfway shut on the vague shapes taking form on your screen.

“And a boisterous salutation to you, as well!” he chirps in your ear, voice bright and threaded with an unusual line of tension. That should have been your first clue, but it slips past your lax attention. “Are you terribly busy, or do you have a few ticks to spare?”

The corners of your lips quirk up without conscious permission. “For you? Always. What’s up?”

His hands shift from your shoulders, tracing the tendons in your neck up until he can card his fingers through your hair. Your head automatically tilts forward with the motion, mouth opening in a silent sigh, and your grip on the stylus relaxes until it’s on the verge of falling to the desk.

Behind you, Jake continues tracing his fingertips over your scalp as he speaks. They’re shaking just the slightest bit. That should have been your next big clue, but your mind is slow and soft under his hands. “Well, I was hoping to talk to you about something, a sort of proposition, actually.”

You hum.

He laughs, short sharp bursts of air. “Well! Erm, alright. I’m not entirely sure how best to phrase this, so it’s best to just be right out with it, I think. How would you feel about taking charge in the bedroom, one of these times? Just to try out a change of pace, you know.”

The nerves in his voice are palpable, and finally, finally, your faulty alarm system blares to life. You can literally feel the staticky wave of panic sweep over your brain, and your eyes snap open because fuck, that’s not good. That’s very not good. You’d thought that he enjoyed taking the reins and having his way with you, but apparently you’ve been letting your own selfish greed blind you to his needs  _ a-fucking-gain _ because that is not the sound of a Jake English who’s happy with the status quo. God knows how long he’s been sitting on this before finally working up the nerve to confront you about it, but knowing Jake it’s been a long damn time, maybe even since you got back together.

Shit, okay, you can fix this.

You turn your chair to face him, dislodging his hands in the process, and his face pulls into a pout when you meet his eyes. Okay, this is fine, you can handle this. Just get him to tell you what you’re doing wrong, and you can fix it. “Sure, bro,” you say, forcing your voice to stay steady. You brace your hands against the armrests and try not to grip them too hard. “Didn’t mean to neglect you. What do you have in mind?”

He laughs again, bringing one hand up to scratch at the back of his head. The other rests on his hip. “If I’m being entirely upfront with you, I’m not fully sure of that myself? But I’ve been getting a hankering lately to try my hand at taking the more passive role, so to speak.”

So you’ve been sitting back and making him do all the work in your sex life, and he’s getting tired of doing all the heavy lifting. Okay. This is fine; he’s giving you a chance to fix it, and you  _ will _ fix it. “Yeah, okay, we can do that,” you say. “Just tell me what you want, and I can make it happen. One fairy godmother, coming right up, just say the word and I’ll wave my magic wand, make all your dreams come true.” You clamp your jaw shut before you can slide into a full ramble.

Jake flicks his eyes over you, and his mouth twists into a slight frown. Your hands clench on the armrests before you can force them to relax again, and you try to push down your own nerves to meet his gaze calmly. His hands drop back to his sides. “This doesn’t need to be some kind of big production with all the accompanying hullabaloo,” he says. “I was just thinking you could have your way with me, maybe push me around a bit?” His ears redden a little, and he bites his lip.

And that’s a great sight, but...fuck. Okay. Okay, no, you can do this. You just need to sort out boundaries first, but if Jake wants this enough to actually ask you for it, then god damn you’re going to give it to him. “Push you around, how, exactly?” You force your hands to release the armrests and steeple them at your chin, leaning back a little in the chair. Then you realize how much of a douche you must look like right now, and you lace your hands in your lap instead. “Are we talking literal pushing around? Hair-pulling, wrestling, bondage, things like that? Getting a little rough, painplay, maybe hitting or slapping? Gotta say I’m not really thrilled with that one, but we can work something out if that’s what you want. Or are you looking for more metaphorical pushing around? If we’re going to do consent play, we’ll need to put together a system of safewords, but that’s something we could do--”

“Dirk,  _ stop.” _ His voice cracks over you, and you instantly fall silent, only aware of your racing pulse pounding in your ears now that your mouth has stopped moving. Shit. Okay. Jake cups a hand against your cheek, and you force yourself to take a deep breath as he runs it along your jawline to the back of your neck. His fingers press slow circles on either side of your spine, and you focus on bringing your heart rate back down. “Jesus christmas, that’s putting the horse before the wagon a bit, don’t you think?”

You don’t say anything, just stare down at your fingers twisted together and try to let the tension drain from your shoulders. Above you, you hear Jake sigh, although he doesn’t let up with the gentle massage. “Alrighty then,” he says after a minute. “I think maybe we got a few wires crossed here. This really isn’t the federal fucking issue you seem to think it is; if anything, it was more of a whimsical flight of fancy, and I didn’t think it would set you off like a friggin firecracker. Why don’t we just...pretend this whole conversation didn’t happen, and start over for the day?” He brings his other hand up to trace your hairline and steps closer so that he’s standing between your knees. You obligingly lean forward and rest your forehead against his belly. “Good morning, lovely,” he says, voice chipper. “What are you working on today?”

Your pulse and breathing have both settled, but you lean against him for a few moments longer before pulling back and sitting up to meet his eyes. “Are you sure?” you ask, ignoring his last question for now.

He beams at you and bends down to collect a kiss from your lips. “I’m sure,” he says. “You’re absolutely lovely, and I’m more than happy with what we have.”

You’re...not entirely sure you should believe him, but hearing the words still relaxes a tense ball of nerves in your core. You nod and decide that you’re just going to have to trust him. He turns your chair around again and leans over your shoulder while he asks you about the drawings you’re working on, and you finally feel the last of your tension drain away as you follow his lead.

...Follow his lead.

Fuck, you  _ are  _ neglecting him.

* * *

That conversation nags at the back of your mind over the next few days until you finally put together a workable plan. You’re determined to start pulling your own weight in bed and give Jake a few nights off from doing all the work. He’s made you feel amazing, time and time again, and you’re more than overdue to return the favor.

The first step to this, you decide, is to signal your intent.

Jake is nibbling at your neck one evening while Avatar plays on in the background (it’s one of the few movies you can consistently distract him from, given how many times he’s seen it, although even that fails when the weirdass ponytail sex scene comes on), and you catch your breath long enough to say, “Hey, let’s try it the other way around this time.”

He hums around the hickey he’s in the process of sucking into your skin, and you have to force yourself to stay upright as your fingers clench in his hair.  _ Do it for Jake _ , you remind yourself. “I want to show you a good time,” you manage, carefully tugging him away from your throat. Fuck, but he’s good at that.

To your mixed relief, Jake follows the pull and puts enough space between you to meet your eyes. “Is that so?” he asks, grinning widely. He’s still very much in your space, and the playful glint in his eyes makes you swallow.

Eyes on the prize, come on, don’t get distracted. “Yep. I thought I’d try my hand at...pushing you around a bit.” God, you sound ridiculous. What if he doesn’t actually want this, after all? No, no, you’re sure he does. You ignore the cold nerves in creeping up your spine and give him the best smolder you can manage.

Something about that must work for him, at least. You get the distinct pleasure of watching his eyes go wide behind his glasses, pupils dilating, and his cheeks heat enough that with your hand still in his hair you can feel the warmth on the inside of your forearm. “Hell yes, hell fucking yes!” he says after a beat. “I didn’t think you were interested in that.”

Yeah, you’re still not convinced that you are, either, but you take a moment to cement your determination in the confirmation that he  _ does _ actually want this--quite a lot, if his reaction is anything to go by. Okay. Time to stop being a shitty boyfriend and actually even out this relationship imbalance you’ve got going on.

You take a steadying breath and pull your knees under you on the couch so that you can lean over Jake and force him backwards a bit. You use the grip on his hair to shift his head to the side and expose his neck to your lips. Jake’s breathing gets heavier as you spend a few minutes there, mouthing up and down the tendon and tracing his pulse with your tongue. His hands come up to grip your hips, and you shift up to whisper in his ear. “Mind having a few marks tomorrow?”

“Not in the slightest,” he replies.

“Rad.” You carefully bite down over the top of the tendon.

Jake’s breath punches out of him in a groan, hands clenching over your hips, and you feel a jolt of triumphant satisfaction rush through you. Yes, fuck yes, you can  _ do this. _ You set in to gently maul your boyfriend’s neck, and with each squirm and gasped curse it earns you, you gain a little bit more confidence.

Soon enough, though, Jake starts shifting his hips restlessly, and it’s time to move on to the next point on your agenda. You give the latest bite mark one last, lingering suck and pull back. Jake’s jaw is slack, and he’s staring at you with lust-blown eyes. Holy shit. Okay. You run a finger over the saliva-slick mess of bruises on his neck, and his hands twitch against your hips.

“How about we move this to the bedroom?” you ask, trying to drop your voice into a deeper register. You stand up and hold a hand out to him.

He grins and uses your hand to pull himself to his feet. “Lead on.”

Once you get into the bedroom, though, you feel your footing start to slip. You tip Jake onto the bed and wince at how hard he bounces. It’s never caused you any problems when he does the same to you, but Jake’s taller and a lot more solid than you are. You forgot to account for that. “Shit, sorry. You okay?”

“Hm?” Jake looks up at you from his sprawl and laughs a little. “Oh, never better!”

“Cool.” Resolving to be more careful about that kind of thing in the future, you crawl after Jake and settle over him. His arms immediately come up to curl around your shoulders, and he brings his knees to either side of your thighs, cradling you close as you let your weight press down on him.

Kissing is easy, as is stripping both your clothes off, although it’s a new and slightly strange experience to maneuver Jake’s clothes off while he’s lying underneath you. You manage, though, and it’s smooth sailing until you reach for the lube and vibrating dildo that you stashed under the pillows earlier.

You sit up a little, vibrator and lube clutched in one hand, and stare at Jake’s sex-drunk expression. He just looks back at you, writhing gently and waiting for your next move. You swallow. “So, uh, how do you feel about--shit. I mean, I’m going to fuck you open with this before I have my way with you.” Your nerve breaks. “If you’re down for that.” God fucking damn it.

Jake blinks a few times, expression shifting slightly towards bemusement, and you want to slap yourself. “That sounds like a rip-snorting proposition,” he says, giving you a grin. “Full speed ahead!”

“Right.” Okay. Fuck, pull it together, Dirk. You press another kiss to his lips before shimmying back to kneel between his spread legs. Your hands are shaking a little when you pop the cap on the lube, and you take a minute to flex them and shake them out. Come  _ on. _

Jake gasps at the first press of your fingers, tightening, and you freeze. “Good?” you ask.

“A bit chilly,” he admits, “but carry on, it’s fine!” He lifts his head to shoot you another smile and a wink, even though his glasses are sitting on the bedside table and you know he can’t really see you. You appreciate the gesture anyway.

You take a minute to rub your fingers together to warm the lube before trying again. God, this feels so awkward. It’s one thing to do this on yourself, and an entirely different universe when Jake does it for you, but this has nothing in common with either of those. Trying to read his reactions to tell if you need to go faster or slower is fucking nerve wracking, and you the last thing you want to do is fuck it up. Jake usually preps himself before riding you, and you’re half tempted to ask him to take care of it this time, too, but no. The entire point of this is to take over for a while so that he can just lie back and enjoy it. You take a shaky breath and keep going, one hand rubbing Jake’s knee.

Around the time you add a third finger, Jake extends one hand towards you entreatingly. “Dirk, fuck, please? Please, come here?”

You lean forward and let him pull you up, fingers still working into him, until he can curve off the bed enough to reach your lips, one arm looping over your shoulders again to brace him. You can feel his breath hitch every time you shift your fingers the right way, and...god. It’s good. It’s really fucking good. You’re almost reluctant to stop and switch to the vibrator, but you have a plan, and you’re sticking to it.

You pull your hand free and slick up the vibrator but hesitate before pushing it in. Jake’s hand resettles on your bicep as you adjust yourself. “Ready?” you ask.

“Fuck, Dirk, yes,  _ please, _ come on,” he groans at you, and you oblige. His fingers dig into your arm as it slides in. “ _ Hoooly _ toledo, wow, that’s, that’s really something, that’s fantastic,  _ Dirk!” _ his voice cracks into a yelp when you turn it on, and his knee snaps up so he can dig his heel into the bed.

This, at least, feels like familiar territory, even if you’re usually on the other side of things. You can’t help but grin as you start to shift it in and out by small increments. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

_ “Yes, _ shitbiscuits, why in the blazing hell have I been letting you have all the fun with this?  _ Fuck a duck that’s good. _ ”

And his pleasure-struck expression as his head tosses on the pillow is a sight to behold, definitely, but at that reminder of how uneven things have been between you, you falter, gut clenching. It’s fine. It’s fine, you’re making up for it now, and you’ll keep making it up to him. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and focus on angling the vibrator so that it hits Jake’s sweet spot.

Jake is increasingly vocal as you work him over, and you latch onto his reactions as a defense against the chill creeping up the back of your neck. You’re making him feel good, you’re clearly making him feel good, maybe it’s not  _ exactly _ what he really wanted, but it’s okay, this is okay. Just stick to the plan. As long as he enjoys it and he doesn’t have to work for it, it’s a success. You can do this, Dirk, fuck.

Shit, you’ve been quiet for too long, you’re just hovering over him awkwardly, god damn it get your head in the game. He doesn’t seem to have noticed the lapse, at least. Small blessings. You try to think of the kinds of things he says to you in these moments, the things that set you ablaze and burn your mind blank of anything but his voice and his touch.

“That’s it, you gorgeous thing,” you say, wincing over how stilted you sound even as you continue. “Just let go, give it to me. I’m going to unravel you and make every piece of you scream.” The moment the words are out of your mouth, you duck your head and focus on the flex of Jake’s stomach. He gasps something, but you can’t make it out over the rushing in your ears. Jesus god, no, why the hell did you say that. It works for Jake, but you feel like such a sleazy tool, christ. You can’t bring yourself to look at his expression as you fumble for a condom and stroke yourself back to full hardness.

Your fingers are shaking hard enough that it takes you a few tries to get it on, but you’re at the last step in your plan and you can’t fuck it up now. This is the most important part,  _ you cannot fuck it up now. _ Shit, come on, you’re so close to pulling this off. Just keep it together, Dirk, keep it the fuck together.

Jake moans loudly as you pull the vibrator free and kneel between his thighs. He hooks one knee around the backs of your legs and curls his heel into your calf. “Dirk, fuck,” he gasps, chest still heaving. His hair is a total mess, and his face is shining with sweat. He meets your eyes and offers you a sweet smile, completely out of place in this sex-mussed bed. Your heart pounds. “You’re really something, you know that?” he says.

You have to brace your hand against Jake’s knee again as you suck down a few breaths, head dropping. He’s right there, spread open and easy as anything, and you’ve got your hand around your own dick, ready to impale him. Fuck. No, it’s okay, look at him, you’ve got this. You’ve got him.

You haven’t got anything.

“Dirk?” Jake asks, concerned, when you just stay there, shaking, and make no move to stick it in. You’re frozen, dick in hand, and you just fucking  _ can’t. _ You can’t do this one thing right for him; you were always going to fuck it up, and now you’ve got him concerned for you when you were supposed to be blowing his mind. You’re fucking shameful.

“Dirk, love, look at me?”

You can feel him shift around you as he sits up, but you don’t move until he sets his fingertips under your chin and actually lifts your head enough for him to see your face. You don’t know what kind of expression you’ve got on, but his crumples into dismay, and you have to close your eyes. Fuck.

You swallow twice and cut him off before he can say anything. “Sorry, just--give me a minute. We can keep going.”

His other hand comes up and traces over your cheek, and it’s so gentle that you want to scream. “We don’t have to.”

Fuck that. You open your eyes and glare at him. “I want to.”

He stares at you with those worried green eyes and bites his lip, but after a minute he nods. “Okay. But I want to ride you.”

You bristle. “The whole point of this--”

“Please?” he interrupts, running a finger over the curve of your ear. “I want to ride you. Will you let me?”

It’s such an obvious tactic, and you hate yourself for not being able to say no to him. You should have just been able to fuck him like you were planning. Fuck, you’d been doing so well, god  _ damn  _ it.

You drop your eyes from his and nod, and he rewards you with a smile and a kiss. It’s a chaste peck at first, but he hesitates when he pulls back, hands still cupping your face, and dips back in to give you another. And another. He lingers, coaxing you to respond, and you let him in.

Your chest is still tight, but he draws you forward, hands sliding down your neck to your shoulders to your arms to your back, and you can’t help it, you fucked up, but Jake is still touching you, and you lean into him. The tight chill in your chest slowly starts to thaw under his caresses, and you bring your own hands up to rub his thighs. When one of his hands wanders back up your spine and clenches in your hair, it drags a groan out of you, and your eyelids flutter as you tilt your head back into his touch.

“There you are, lovely,” Jake murmurs, and you look through your eyelashes to see him smiling softly at you. “Don’t fret; I’ve got you.” He dips down and mouths under your jaw. You moan, angling yourself to give him more room, and knead your fingers into his legs.

After everything, it almost feels unreal when he tips you over onto your back and follows you down, kissing you all the way. He sits up for a minute, looking down your bodies, and you feel him adjust you where the condom has started to slip. You feel a pang, reminded of how badly you managed to fuck this all up, but he shushes you and sinks down on you before the thought can gain any traction.

You groan, hands returning to rest on Jake’s thighs, and press the back of your head into the bed as he takes you in. “That’s it,” he croons, running his palms over your chest. Already relaxed from earlier, he wastes no time in setting a steady rhythm that you’re pretty sure was designed to steal your fucking breath. “Let yourself break, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Give me those shattered shards, and I’ll make every last one of them shine. Come on, lovely.”

You’re undone. Jake, god. You gasp for breath as he rides you, hands clutching his thighs as he runs his own all over you, and when you come you feel everything drain out of you. You’ve got nothing left. You flop back against the bed, exhausted and limp, and barely react when Jake jerks himself over your stomach.

He cleans you off and settles in beside you, tucking you in against him and adjusting you until he can spoon you properly. You just close your eyes and let yourself be held.

* * *

Jake gives you the reprieve of letting you doze against him for a while, but eventually it’s time to face the music, and he nudges you over until you roll to face him. He still keeps you close, though, and captures your hands under his where they rest between you.

“So,” he says, and you wince. “Do you maybe want to explain what in the wild west happened earlier?”

Not really. You keep your head tilted forward so that you can look at his chest instead of his face. The marks you left on his neck are just visible from this angle, and you grimace. “Mistakes were made.”

“I’m tracking along so far.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, and it’s unfairly soothing.

“Do we really need to talk about this?” you whine, aware that you’re acting like a petulant child, but, fuck. You’d rather not dissect your failings as a lover with your actual lover, thanks.

The thumb-rubbing stops, and Jake’s hands tighten over your own. When he speaks, his voice is devoid of the soft tone he had before. “Dirk.” You can’t help flicking your eyes up to check his expression, and, fuck. You’re upsetting him.

God  _ damn it. _

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you happy, but I fucked it up,” you blurt, dropping your eyes again. You curl your hands into fists under Jake’s and hunch your shoulders forward. “I always fuck it up. I thought I was doing better this time, that things were going well, but I was just taking what I wanted and ignoring what you needed all over again. You do so much, and all you asked for was for me to take over for a bit, and I couldn’t even fucking manage that without having a literal goddamn meltdown and making you cater to me as per fucking usual. I have no idea how to be good for you.” You clamp your mouth shut and force yourself to stop.

There’s a beat of motionless silence. Then Jake starts rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb again, and you feel your eyes burn. “That’s enough of that malarkey, I think,” he says, voice unfairly even. You don’t understand how he can be so calm right now, when the only reason you’re not vibrating out of your skin is because you’re already worn down, no battery charge left, just the last dying sparks as you grind to a halt.

“You think you have no idea how to be good for me?” he continues. “You’re  _ so good _ for me, Dirk. Look at all that rigmarole you went through and how far out of your comfort zone you went just to give me a pretty favor! And it  _ was _ a pretty favor, don’t doubt that for a hot second. Even when it turned out you bit off the whole pie when you thought you just had the crust, you let me take you apart and put you back together like this.” He lets go of your hands and wraps an arm over your shoulders to pull you in and tuck your head under his chin. “You make a bloke feel pretty goshdamn special, you know.”

Fuck, this isn’t fair. God damn it, Jake. You press your forehead into his sternum and purse your lips, breathing deeply through your nose. Jake’s scent is all around you like this, and you feel your mouth twist, and you absolutely refuse to cry all over him on top of everything else.

Jake nearly breaks you when he starts sweeping his hand up and down your spine. “I think maybe I didn’t explain things right when I first brought this whole friggin thing up,” he muses. You focus on keeping your breathing even and let his words settle over you. “I think you got it in your head somehow that I don’t like taking care of you like this? And that couldn’t be farther than the truth if it was launched away on a rocket. Maximum distance from the truth has already been obtained!”

That gets a snort out of you, and your breath stutters on the way back in. You clamp down on it ruthlessly and resume your steady breathing.

Jake nuzzles the top of your head and keeps talking. “I think it’s the absolute cat’s pajamas that you trust me enough to let me take you apart like you do, and maybe you don’t find it all that fun being on the other side of things, but I can assure you that I enjoy it quite a lot.”

“It’s fucking  _ terrifying, _ ” you rasp out. Damn it, your face is wet. You mash it against Jake’s sweaty chest. He’ll never know the difference. Jake makes an inquisitive sound and keeps petting your back, so you push yourself to keep talking and explain. “And it’s so hard. I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn’t want to hurt you. Shit, I had no business playing around at topping you, did I?” Considering your history of pushing people too far, yeah, you think you could pretty easily qualify as one of the worst candidates for a dom on the planet.

“I think you actually did a pretty bang-up job of it, up until the end!” he says. “Especially for your first time at the rodeo. You remember how bad it was when we first started out, don’t you?”

And, okay, you have to concede the point with a watery chuckle. But you don’t think you ever saw him so consumed with uncertainty like you were, and you tell him so. He shrugs against you. “Then we’ll just stick to this. I’m more than happy with our arrangement as it stands.” He presses a kiss to your hair. “Promise.”

* * *

 

The topic doesn’t come up for a while after that, and you try not to feel self-conscious about always leaving him to take the lead. Eventually, though, you’re in bed one evening with Jake, who has apparently decided that innocent spooning is for squares and is cheerfully groping the hell out of you (not that you’re complaining), when he pauses and says, “...You know, if you were only jumpy about taking the lead because you didn’t know what you should do, I might have a solution. Only if you’re interested, though!”

You blink out of the pleasurable haze a bit and peer at him over your shoulder. He’s not giving you enough room to twist any farther than that. “How do you mean?” you ask, wary but curious. You try to ignore the anxiety sinking its claws into the back of your brain.

He grins and kisses your upturned cheek before nudging you back to face forward. “Okay,” he says, voice dipping into that register that always makes you sit up and take notice. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

He pins both your wrists to the bed in front of you with his free arm and continues massaging your pec with the other. You shiver and press back into him, and he proceeds to narrate  _ exactly _ how he wants you to take him apart. When he gets to the part where you honest-to-god facefuck him, his hand shifts to trail fingertips up the line of your ribs, past your underarm and halfway down your tricep before following the same path back, and fuck. You squirm and pant because your nerves are on  _ fire _ and you can feel that thin line of skin burning even when he goes back to playing with your nipple.

A few lines later, you’re grinding back against him as best you can through two pairs of boxers (and you’re not even fully fucking  _ undressed _ jesus shit) as he describes how he wants you to use that vibrator on him while demonstrating with the rim of your navel. You groan, dipping your head forward, and he takes a breather to suck and bite at the knobs of your spine. It, uh. It doesn’t really help to slow down the heat pooling in your dick.

By the time he gets to describing how he wants you to fuck him, you’ve got one leg hooked backwards over his to give him space to rub over your  _ still fucking clothed _ erection while he circles his own against the crease of your ass. His other hand is a brand over your wrists, and even though you both know he doesn’t have the leverage from this position to keep you down, they haven’t moved an inch.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, pulling away when he reaches the end of his fucking x-rated bedtime story. He grins down at you. “Think you can handle that, cowboy?”

You look up at him, everything already a little bit hazy from all the images going through your mind, and manage a flat glare. You gather up all the courage you’ve got and tell him, “Saddle up, ‘cause I’m going to ride you like I fucking stole you.”

He laughs and backs off, getting to his feet beside the bed. You follow him up and keep going, riding the wave of heat to crowd him back against the wall. Jake pushes back against you for the briefest moment before you set one hand against his shoulder and  _ shove _ , and he goes with a thump, knees a little loose to either side of you as you press in.

You don’t give him even a second, hand on his shoulder holding him there while your other sweeps into his hair and pulls him down to meet you. You catch his low whine in your mouth and bite at his lips, and the  _ sound _ of his whimper as he brings his hands up to curl over your hips, fuck.

When you pull back, you don’t hesitate trying to remember what Jake wanted you to do next; every step of this dance he’s set you on is burning in your mind, and you use the grip in his hair to twist his head to the side and give you room to attack his neck. He told you that you wouldn’t spare him any quarter here, and you don’t.

"Fuck!” he yelps, fingertips scrabbling against your ribs and waist. You can feel his body slip against the wall as his knees fail to hold him, and you pin him harder to hold him up.  _ No quarter, he said, _ you remind the part of your gut that tries to freeze you, and you keep going. You’re rewarded when Jake starts babbling in your ear. “Dirk, oh god, shit,  _ yes _ , jesus fucking christmas!” He trails off into a whining keen, and you pull back just enough to go for his lips again and swallow the noises down.

His pupils are blown wider than you think you’ve ever seen them when you finally get a little bit of space to look him over. You can see the bite marks already darkening, and his lips are starting to bruise. Despite all that, he’s staring at you, flushed, with such an awestruck, hungry expression that you feel a jolt of heat skate down your spine. Holy shit, he looks  _ wrecked _ , and you’ve barely even started.

Hell  _ fucking _ yes. You grin, feeling a little wild, and use your grip on his hair and shoulder to shove him down. “On your knees,” you tell him, and Jake’s still staring at you with that same feverish expression when he hits the floor.

His fingertips pluck at the waist of your boxers, but he waits for your nod to peel them down. Your hand clenches in his hair when he wraps a hand around your dick, and the kick of your hips when he traces the tip with his tongue is entirely involuntary. He moans and wraps his lips around you, hand jerking the rest, and you bite your lip because  _ holy fuck his face. _ His eyes are nearly closed, and every last bit of his attention is focused on you and on being what you demand of him.

God, fuck, okay. You swallow a whimper and knock his hand away from your dick. It lands back on your hip, and you adjust your grip on Jake’s hair. He sucks at you one last time, hard, and lets his jaw relax as you push in.

“Jake, holy shit,” you manage, watching him take you in. His eyes flicker open and skip up your chest to meet your gaze, and you feel your breath punch out of you. You’ve seen him look at you with love and devotion before, even if you sometimes skirted away from admitting that’s what it was. This is something a little different, a little more electric, and you feel it skitter up and down your spine as you push into his throat. “Holy  _ shit.” _ Your grip tightens without your conscious input, and Jake’s eyelids flutter as he works his tongue against you.

His fingers clench and release against your hips as you piston in and out, tugging him to where you want him, and he gasps out little moans and whimpers whenever you pull out enough for him to catch his breath. You keep him there until you can feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, and then you pull him off, just like he told you you would. His lips, so dark now he looks like he’s wearing lipstick, smack as he separates, and fuck, fuck. Your hand shakes as you pull your fingers free of his hair and help him to his feet.

“On the bed,” you tell him, voice shivering a little, just like the rest of you.

He shoots you a wide grin, chest still heaving as he catches his breath, and flops back on the bed spread-eagle. His erection is prominent in his boxers. “Do you think you could give me a hand?” he asks in a voice that would be teasing if it weren’t so hoarse.

You snort in amusement, regardless, and shake your head as you pull out the toys you’ll need for this. “More like take it away,” you suggest, setting the vibrator and lube aside for now and crawling over to him with the cuffs.

Jake doesn’t move to help you, and you bodily shove him closer to the headboard before straddling his chest and pinning both wrists to the pillow above his head. His breath catches, and you have the pleasure of watching his eyes dilate just that little bit more as he slips deeper. “That’s more like it,” you agree, holding his eyes with your own. The quiet desperation there,  _ fuck _ , it burns into you, but Jake’s got you. You’ve got him, and he’s got you.

You break eye contact and catch your own breath as you pull Jake’s hands up and cuff them to the headboard. One of the bars is already reinforced after you nearly scraped through it in a few particularly enthusiastic encounters, and it should hold to Jake with no trouble. You wait for him to tug and test the tightness of the cuffs before asking, “Good?”

“Fan-friggin-tastic,” he says, flexing his hands in the cuff. He meets your eyes again and smiles, lips quirked playfully. “Have your way with me, Mr. Strider.”

You let yourself smirk as you grab the lube and the vibrator. Jake’s boxers end up somewhere behind you, and you settle between his legs to open him up. You’ve got a set of instructions to carry out for this part, and you meet the anticipatory gleam in Jake’s eye as you lean over him. As your first finger slips into him, you bend down and nip at the edge of his navel.

The cuffs rattle as Jake jerks. “Whoa, that, ah, that’s quite a bit more, uhm, sensitive than I expected?” Even with his abused throat, he squeaks a little at the end of his sentence, and you grin into his belly. His legs shift restlessly to either side of you as you slide your tongue around the rim of his belly button. You dip in and suck, timing it to the thrust of your finger, and his entire torso spasms. “Ha haaa wow, that’s really somethi- _ hing! _ Dirk, holy shit,” he gasps, breath audibly ragged.

You sit up to watch the pull of his muscles as he tries to figure out if he wants to curl up or lift into the touch. He’s panting, jaw dropped, and craning his neck so that he can look down his body at you. You add a second finger on your next thrust, and his head drops back with a groan. “Fucking hell, Dirk,  _ please.” _

That’s your cue. “I’ve got you,” you reassure him, shifting your weight forward and laying over him to press your lips together. He kisses you desperately, more desperately than you can ever remember him kissing you before, and you fucking drown in it. Every time you dig your fingers into him and catch him by surprise, he lets out a quiet grunt and his lips stutter against yours.

By the time you finish opening him up, you’re both whining into each other’s mouths on every other breath. You lift yourself up and sit back, slipping your fingers out and lubing the vibrator so quickly it’s almost a single motion. When you turn back to him, your breath catches in your throat.

You’re not even touching him, and still he’s writhing slowly against the bed, stretched out muscles flexing and twitching. Without his glasses, you know you’re just a blur to him, but his half-lidded eyes are still locked on you as he pants with a slack jaw. His neck is a  _ fucking mess _ of bruises and bite marks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so beautiful as he is in this moment.

“God  _ damn, _ you’re fucking gorgeous,” you tell him, and he whines, bringing one knee up so he can run his heel entreatingly along your calf. You splay your palm over his hipbone and rub, marveling at the way he pushes into your touch. “I could watch you like this forever, I think.”

“Dirk,  _ please,” _ he gasps out, eyes still trained on you, and you stroke your hand over his waist and hip.

“It’s okay,” you say, bringing the vibrator down between his legs. “You can let go; I’ve got you.”

Jake shifts his hips eagerly, breath already picking up in anticipation, and you give the man what he wants.

The vibrator slides in smoothly, and you click it on as soon as it breaches him. Jake shouts and actually manages to shift a few inches up the bed as he tries to curl in on himself and pulls against the cuffs. You brace a hand just above his crotch, catching his dick between thumb and forefinger, and twist the vibrator so that it pulls and rubs against his rim. “Oh, god, Dirk, Dirk,” he chants, feet skidding across the bed. His arms strain against the cuffs, and he cuts himself off with a loud moan when you angle up towards his prostate.

His hips kick under your hands, and the motion drives his dick against your palm. You squeeze a little, and Jake makes an almost wounded noise as he rocks back down against the vibe in your other hand. He gasps out an incoherent string of curses when you pull it back to tease at his opening. You stroke him as you push it in deep again, and his voice breaks into a high whine.

You flick your eyes up from his crotch to take stock of the rest of him, and  _ holy fuck _ . He’s fucking falling apart for you. His head is tilted back into the pillow, neck straining, and his chest heaves with the force of his gasps. Sweat drips down the backs of his arms, his legs shift restlessly to either side of you, and you got him here, holy shit.

“Jesus fuck, would you look at you,” you marvel, unable to help the awed tone in your voice as you start to grin. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that? Holy shit.”

“Dirk, please, god, please,” he pants, lifting his head again to look at you, and fuck that is a hell of a sight. You adjust the angle of the vibrator, and you catch a glimpse of his face screwing up in overwhelmed pleasure before his drops his head back with a gasp.

Jake’s plan calls for you to switch to fucking him yourself right about now, but looking at the desperate curl of his fingers and the way he’s starting to thrash his head against the pillow, you think it’s maybe time to improvise. When you curl your fingers around his erection and start stroking in earnest, pumping the vibrator in counterpoint, he fucking loses it, and it’s better than the first time you saw fireworks.  _ “Dirk! _ Oh, oh god, Dirk, I’m, shit, Dirk,  _ Dirk--!” _

He goes taut under you and lets out a hoarse shout as he comes, pulsing under your hands. “Fuck, yes, that’s it,” you croon. “That’s right, just like that.” You click the vibrations off but work him through it until he collapses in a shivering, boneless mess, still gasping for breath. He twitches when you pull the vibrator free but otherwise doesn’t react, and you just stop for a second to take him in.

He is god damn  _ dripping _ in sweat, holy shit, and his lungs are still working like a bellows as he comes down. Every few seconds, his belly or arm or leg twitches as the aftershocks work through him, and when you gentle your hand against his thigh, you feel the muscles under your palm jump. You lean over him until you can look down into his face, and fucking wow. His eyes are shut, mouth slack, and he’s completely flushed, god, you can feel the heat radiating off him. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous,” you murmur to him.

His eyes flicker open, and it takes him a moment to focus on you, but once he does, his expression sharpens a little. “Holy friggin hell, Dirk,” he mutters between gasps. He starts to shift his arms down and seems taken by surprise when the cuffs catch them short.  _ “Oh,” _ he sighs, relaxing back into the bed.

And, right, the scene’s over. You should let him out. When you crawl up his body to reach the cuffs, though, Jake’s breath catches, and you look down to see him staring up at you with wide, dark eyes.

“Let me suck you,” he blurts, and you blink in surprise. “Please, please, I’ll be so friggin good for you, I promise, please?”

It snatches the air out of your damn lungs, and there’s no way in hell you can resist him like this. “Yeah, okay,” you manage. “Yes, fuck yes. Let me just…” You reach for the cuffs again, and Jake squirms underneath you.

“Leave them?” he asks, and fuck. Fuck, yeah, okay. You can do that.

You shift so that you’re straddling his chest, as far up as you can manage, and cradle the back of his head in your hand to help him reach. He looks at your dick like he’s starving for it, and holy  _ fucking _ shit you’re not going to last long at all.

He moans high and needy as you feed the tip between his lips. “God damn,” you gasp, inching in farther. “You’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?”

His eyes squeeze shut, and he groans around you, and  _ fuck. _ You slam a hand against the top of the headboard to brace yourself as you jerk forward, hunching over him. His hands clench and release as he sucks you in, tongue tracing along the underside, and your fingers tighten against the back of Jake’s head until you’ve got a handful of hair in your grip. You pull back and rock in, Jake moaning as best he can, and you drop your head as you pant for breath.

It takes what would be an embarrassingly short amount of time in other circumstances for Jake to work you up until you’re driving into him, grunts and groans falling from your lips with every thrust. “Fuck, I’m close,” you say, possibly the most superfluous warning you’ve ever given him.

He instantly redoubles his efforts, which weren’t exactly slacking in the first place, and looks up to catch your eyes with his own. It’s that same look from before, burning with love and need and devotion and  _ trust _ , and it cracks you open.

His eyes slip closed again as you spill into him, and he takes everything you have to offer, draining you with an honest-to-fucking-god beatific expression. You shudder when you finally pull back and slip out of his mouth. Fingers trembling (from exertion, from exhaustion, from emotion, you don’t fucking know), you let Jake out of the cuffs and shuffle down to lie next to him, head pillowed on his shoulder. He brings his arm down around your back, you wrap yours around his waist, and once you drape your leg over his you’re suitably tangled together.

The two of you just lie there and breathe for a few minutes, letting your heart rates settle into something a little less frantic and tracing shapes into each other’s skin. You close your eyes as the heat that carried you through the scene dissipates, and you’re faced with the reality of having taken Jake English to fucking pieces.

You feel that cold chill tracing at the base of your neck, trying to take hold, but holy shit. His expression when he fell apart underneath you blazes in your mind, and you embrace the heated shudder that slides down your spine. Fuck that voice screaming at you from the back of your mind, honestly. That was probably the hottest shit you’ve seen in your entire god damn life, and you made it happen.

You tighten your arm around Jake and nuzzle into his chest, smiling. Jake’s thumb runs over your shoulder blade, and you force yourself to move and lean over him until you can press your lips to his cheek. “Hey,” you say.

He smiles at you with sated eyes and lips so bruised they’re practically purple. “Howdy, cowboy.”

This fucking guy. You roll your eyes and press a kiss to his lips. His smile is softer when you pull back. “So, uh. Any time you want to give up the reins for a while,” you tell him, “just let me know. I’ve got you covered.”

His smile widens into a grin. “Yeah, you really friggin do.”

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands*


End file.
